Out of Place: Forced out of the door
by Monkeybandit2
Summary: (AU/SI). You'd think running into a mad god and being forced to become an angel for his own twisted amusement, then forced to survive half of an eternity's worth of war would be the worst of it. Nope. I guess the universe isn't done with me yet. Or is trying to finish the job. Either or...
1. Chapter 1

**Yeah all know the drill. I do not own Diablo (beyond the purchased game). I do not own That time I was reincarnated as a Slime (beyond the purchased manga). I do not need to be reminded that I do not own them and not rich because of it. Carry on! (... waits till you leave before breaking down and crying because of the lack of ownership.)**

**On another note... as is a growing bad habit of mine, I basically got this idea stuck in my head. As some of you may know this tends to bug me till I finally cave in and write it down. Having said that, and having said this before, I'm going to put this on the sidelines for a bit till I get my other stories under control and completed. As such there will be erratic updates at best for those who are interested in this particular story.**

**For what it's worth I hope you enjoy it nevertheless.**

Out of Place: Forced out the door

Chapter One

Sanctum of the Peculiar, The Silver City, High Heavens

_"When one ever one had the most strange yet spectacular fortune to ever gaze upon the majestic fortress city they would be undoubtedly awestruck by the majestic tiers, the brilliant towers and often domed structures a stranger might mistake for a home or two if not some sort of government building. I certainly was at first when I had the chance to simply observe my surroundings. Living here for an uncounted number of millennia, eons even, however has certainly dampen the beautiful luster for me. Do not mistake me. It is still breath taking and invigorating to see, some days more so than others, an immortal's paradise even so to speak, but when you see the exact same thing over and over and over and over again and you my occasionally get the idea to run wild with a bucket of paint you managed to smuggle in... I'm still considering which paint would be as garish as it would be shocking to the Angiris Council. I'll catch hell for it, may even get tossed out of Heaven at long last, but I would imagine it would be worth it._

_"I'm rambling. Sorry. But I suppose it can't be helped. After all, my newfound journal, you are probably the closest I can 'talk' to so openly with any comprehension of what I feel, one sided that though that might be..."_

I paused in contemplation just long enough to watch the ink dry. "... bah." It wasn't like anyone else was going to read this when the Scroll of Fate was usually a quick hop, skip and a wing from here. Okay maybe not but time was virtually meaningless here, especially during 'peace time' now that the legions of Hell were happily screwing humanity over either to amuse themselves or to convert humanity to their side. Regardless I take a moment to dip my quill into the inkwell to refill it. After giving it a sharp shake to rid it of excess ink I resume where I left off.

_"At any rate, to any thief or likewise unwanted trespasser (even if you had good intentions for doing so or at least stumbled upon this by accident. I just don't like it when others touch my belongings) who manages to take a look at this, I am Jack. To an outsider I would probably be better known as Jack the Coward (thank you so much Imperius, you jackass). Jack the Castellan (thank you Tyreal). Jack, Lord of Chairs—"_

I couldn't surprise a little giggle at that.

"—_(odd as it is ludicrous, you'd be surprised how favored I became for _making _chairs. Yes. You read that right. I regularly beat off requests to make _chairs_ with a stick here.)—"_

Mostly from Imperius of all angels to be honest. You'd think he'd love that throne I gave him just to get him off my back but _nooooo_... it was the bean bag chair that was his favorite. Granted he uses that throne now and then for important matters but you'd think you'd know the closest thing we have to an egotist after half an eternity of mutual hatred for each other yet no, he's weirdly in love with bean bag chairs for some reason. Which he is always rough on that I might add, hence his multiple requests for them... Either he has successfully learned to troll me or he's weirder than I ever considered him capable of, which is to say I never thought him capable to begin with. Anyway...

"—_The Grand Artificer (a story for a later date). My semi-arguable favorite, The Tinker (incidentally what led to my eventual naming as the Grand Artificer). Or perhaps by my most preferable title yet: Jack, __**ARCHANGEL OF CHAOS!**"_

I couldn't help but giggle a little deliriously at that. How it rankled that jackass so much whenever I do that. Always got a giggle from Auriel too. Ithereal was usually a flip of a coin at best on most centuries. Tyreal, aside from the initial snort had been otherwise indifferent whenever I make that declaration. Maltheal...

... since day one he always creeped me out. Maybe it was because of what I knew from Diablo III. Maybe he was naturally... off-putting. Either way though I personally found it sad that I always found more comfort in _Imperius'_ company than in his... I can't help but have my pangs of regret though. Would it have made a difference if I stopped hiding behind Tyreal as much as I did? That if I had been more assertive and ignored my discomfort, would I have bent Maltheal's ear enough to keep him within the High Heavens? I would like to think so to be honest... then again, after spending enough time with Ithereal I cannot help but suspect such actions would've been for naught whether I like it or not. Such was the fickleness of fate.

It took a drop of ink splattering onto the page to knock me out of my ruminations. I groaned softly in irritation before dumping the quill to rest inside the ink bottle, crack of knuckles and bring my hands to hover over the sheet of paper. It took barely a moment before that errant splattering was collected from the parchment and hung in my invisible grasp as a liquid ball once more. Barely a second later it was dumped back into the very container which I retrieve my quill from. Now where was I? Let's see—oh right. Me, _**ARCHANGEL OF CHAOS!**_"_Heheheheh!_"

Right. Be serious now. I don't want to end up forgetting this too a millennia now...

_"I honestly hope I'll be amused by that till eternity's last dying breath._

_"Sadly that brings me to the point as to why I write this._

_"To you stranger, assuming of course there is someone other than myself reading this at a later time, it may seem odd that an angel would be making a journal about himself. A—"_

... damn it. Not another one I can't remember. No no no no no...

Deep 'breath'. Deep 'breath'. Just gather the ink onto the quill. There are other words to use.

"—_personal history written by their own hand. An act, to be honest, is so exceptionally rare that I can assure you that, if I remember correctly—"_

After making damn sure to write it down once I figured out I was all but volunteered to partake in the Eternal Conflict...

"—_that only two others have had such an item like myself. Then again I suppose it is entirely possible—"_

... Now that I think about it wasn't that one guy also writing a journal? What was his name again? Damn it, I'm crap with names. He was bugging the council enough to go find Maltheal after he vanished, that much I remember. Where's that tablet with my notes? ... Bah. Change "two" to "three" and call it good.

"—_that there are more that I simply don't know about. Unlike myself however most angels don't have something akin to a residence. More to the point however, let me ask you this, dear reader: of the names Tyreal, Auriel, Ithereal, Maltheal, Imperius and Jack, which do these stand out the most? If you pardon the sense of smugness here, here's a hint if you are genuinely having trouble: it's like counting a farmer amongst a congregation of human kings, queens, emperors and empresses all sharing the same room. In other words someone fundamentally different than a notable crowd regardless of their choices, if any were involved at all._

_"To stop beating around the bush, originally I was human. One who happened upon a frightening realization that he is losing memories of the life he was forced to leave behind by virtue of living, surviving and witnessing an entire epoch's worth of history both great and mundane. One predominantly marked with an uncountable host of years of a horrific war against monsters that would make you beg for either death as a kindness or insanity to shelter yourself from your captors, intrigue even for lack of a better word, and witnessing history unfold in its terrible splendor._

_"... what recollection I have as my life as a human is now but a shadow of its former glory if you could even call it that. As it stands now I'm selfishly cling to words that I barely remember the meaning to; images that can scarcely evoke a sense of understanding for me any longer; notions that are half missing and songs not only becoming more alien to me but are almost incapable of being sung any more if I remember them at all. If this continues then it is very likely that in the turn of the next century or the one after it, or perhaps even another thousand years from now I will unlikely have anything left to remind myself of who I am, my identity, how I came to be... To me it would be as if I had died without realizing it. Would I still know who I am if such an event occurred? Or would I begin to spiral downward for knowing I am different than my comrades both new and old without an inkling as to why it is so? Worse, would I become the next Inarius in doing so? Even if that wasn't the case it nevertheless disturbs me, hence this journal. With any luck I would find _some_ solace should I forget who I am or what I was. As such I will start from the beginning, how I came to be, for whatever it's worth. While I can recall it with surety, even now as I write this I noticed that the details are slowly slipping away—"_

_**KR-KRAK!**_

_Something_ struck the room with such force that it not only rattled my furniture but knocked some of my collected mementos from both Pandemonium and Sanctuary off their places from the wall. And though it was a secondary concern both the shock of the force that rattled me to my 'bones' as well and the jolting of the desk under me had forced me to draw a rather jagged line coursing downward from the very last "y" I drew. It still annoyed me however. Even so however that was a moot point _at best_. Either something blew up in the Sanctum _again_ or something... _**worse**_ happened.

I honestly hoped it wasn't what I thought it was. But knowing what I knew, and Tyreal having renounced his divinity some time ago just after his return from his forced sojourn in Pandemonium, it was almost impossible for it to be anything else. It was only a matter of time at any rate.

Without truly stopping to think about it I stuffed the first page of my memoir inside the confines of the robe that surrounded my armor where I knew a pocket was to be. From there I got up from my chair, snatched Evos from her cozy little nook on the wall and all but stormed out the door into the depths of the sanctum where the front door was. Already I was joined by my fellow angels from their own stations deeper within our collective workshop that was the building, a few of which rallying behind me and following in step whilst the others rushed ahead to the sanctum's primary entrance. Once we entered the vestibule we had our answer in not one but two forms... seen from afar amongst the spires doorways that probably hadn't been in use for an age had been opened along the peaks of each tower to let loose a red light. If one didn't know better they might have thought they were also acting as portals for a low but powerful hum not unlike the roar of a grand warhorn... an old warning system used only during times of an invasion to alert what few angels that were not aware of such an event taking place. The second...

From the open doorway of the sanctum's foyer one could see at least a third of the upper half belonging to the Diamond Gates. The very same gates that stood brilliantly and proudly before every denizen of the Burning Hells and kept them out no matter what they threw at it. Bodies, claws, siege weapons of truly horrific make and curses, all of which failed... It was gone now.

It was finally time.

When my attention was drawn to the rushing forms of angels taking wing to the door to undoubtedly join the battle ahead with what was undoubtedly the first weapons they could get their hands on from what few weapon racks we had in the vestibule which acted more as a display for what few visitors the sanctum ever entertained. They were effective weapons, genuinely made for war, but there was only so much there for everyone in the vicinity.

_**CLACK!**_

By collecting just enough energy to the butt end of Evos and slamming it onto the floor I had successfully distracted every angel from the call of battle just long enough to give me their attention.

"Sound the rally! It is time the Burning Hells is reminded as to _why_ they never succeeded in taking the Silver City, gate or no!"

"Yes Grand Artificer!"

Those that tried to rush to the battlefront returned and mustered into a formation. As for the others, specifically four of those not with a weapon, rushed to the far walls at either side as another two literally dove toward a pair of circular tile on the floor before me, both of which hugging a larger circle of a tile bearing as detailed an image of the Silver Spire as it could be managed. Regardless, with a flick I deployed a pair of prongs from the head of the staff as the two ahead of me depressed the aforementioned tiles with a foot for each of them. From the third tile a column promptly shot up, one which bore two holes which were the exact width for the prongs I had willed into existence on the side facing me.

In seconds flat I slam Evos into the column's side, the prongs easily slipping into the holes and turned them as I or anyone else would a key. Despite lacking the appearance of mobility the stone gave way to shift in accordance with my twisting till the lock was not only perpendicular to its original setting but a heavy and resounding "_**thunk**_" was heard. Not even a moment later every angel on the main floor ahead of me barring those at the doorway or along the walls took flight to not only avoid the jolt that rocked the floor but the movement brought on by it separating down the middle and sliding into their hidden recesses. Sadly for me however I didn't allow myself the time to stay and watch what was to happen: an entire series of floors brought up from below, each one bearing a small army's worth of weapons, siege weapons and various bottled volatile substances capable of blowing the demons back to hell where they belonged. I had more pressing matters to attend to borne from half an eternity's service.

"I want a squad with me! We're going to the Silver Spire's armory!"

Though I heard the affirmation, and even saw some of my comrades immediately move to gather around me, I couldn't wait to truly acknowledge any of it much like I couldn't wait for the first of the floor to reach and rise above the primary floor's level; I took flight and soared straight for the Silver Spire before even the first angel with a weapon formed up to act as my bodyguard for the unlocking of the Spire's armory, assuming no one had done so already.

On reflection I suppose I didn't have to go... but, despite knowing it would be alright, that there was a literally hero bounding after the devil himself, it was impossible not to feel at least some compulsion to defend the only place I can call home for a literal age.

XVX

The Silver Spire

Though the city had never been breached before the Spire was the most secure place within the High Heavens. Hell, the council room whenever there was a brief paranoia of assassins or worse yet traitors lurking about, barring Inarius neither was ever the case as far as I knew, had a less supplemented number of guards to it than the spire on a regular basis. Even then the angels have taken great care to ensure that if the demons had _**ever**_ gotten this far it would be a slaughter long before they had me tinker with some of its defenses: on land there was only _one_ way in in an effort to dissuade the demons from bringing in siege bridges for their foot soldiers. Even if they did they would have to face the concentrated firepower of ballista, catapult and cannon emplacements placed on numerous balconies ready to strike them or any other siege engine down. Or, if need be, destroy the bridge if things were truly desperate. Even so...

Should the demons ever come by air however they would be met with a grisly fate of their own; the ballista wasn't there solely for siege weapons. Even without them there were plenty of balconies only accessible by those with wings staffed with archers, crossbowmen, _riflemen_... I was particularly proud of the gatling emplacements. Hell, it _Imperius_ was is proud of them. Granted I wouldn't shed a tear if he were to drop dead but it was days like that that make my position as Grand Artificer both deserved and worth it. Oh the demons we mowed down... Sadly it didn't work that well outside of the High Heaven's without a harmonic battery or an angelic crew to feed it ammunition. I'm just glad the demons never figured out how to replicate it, the fuckers...

At any rate... Should worse come to worst in that the enemy had indeed gotten this far each and every section has a battalion's worth of guards ready to fight to the death to ensure the Crystal Arch did not fall. By protocol the Spire was sealed completely from the outside world should an invasion finally breach into the city before it. No one in, no one out beyond the members of the Council and a very short list and exclusive list of those who in some way, shape or form are beneficial to its security. Given that a number of my inventions were rung around the spire, awaited to ambush a trespasser, or to be wielded by the garrison for a valiant last stand I was one of those few to ensure the traps were readied to be deployed at the very least.

Unfortunately that sense of caution was moot now. Diablo had came far faster than I had anticipated. The defensive balconies relevant to the primary doorway were nothing more than smoldering ruin now. The door... what wasn't slag was desperately clinging onto the frame for dear life. The soldiers guarding the door had suffered a similar fate. Beyond the doorway itself I saw the first series of one of my personally installed defenses, the Cherubic Guardians, golems powered by the ambient energies of Heaven that were made in the likeness of the grand statues of angels beyond the Spire whenever they were not active, had been utterly demolished to inanimate stone and scrap metal...

"_Damn it."_

... Diablo, Lord of Terror. _One_ of the _seven_ _**Prime Evils**_ before today. It took nothing less than an entire platoon's worth to stand a chance against any of them in direct combat whenever the archangels weren't present, _including Belial, _the _**weakest **_of the seven whenever there was an exceptionally rare encounter with him... Now, with the sum total of the seven in one host... If anyone outside of the nephalam had any chance to stand against him it would be one of the members of the Council. Worse, it might take the full might of the archangels combined to face him on equal ground.

"..._ snerk!_"

... you'd think that after surviving the Eternal Conflict prior to the abduction of the Eye of Anu to this point I'd be better prepared for this sort of moment.

"Grand Artificer."

I jerk my head in the direction of the one who addressed me before returning my gaze to the shattered doorway. I then jerked my head up to the causeway that connected the two towers that made up the Spire where another battalion awaited to fight to the last. Half a second later I point Evos up to it. "I want three to inform the garrison of the bridge that Diablo comes for them. Hopefully that'll give them some time to prepare. As for the rest of us..." I turn my head back to the door, all but ignoring the confirmations to my order and the subsequent take off to enact it. "There's nothing to it I guess."

"Behind us!"

We all whirled around, weapons at the ready in time to see the first of a charging horde of demons barreling down the bridge we had landed upon. From imps to destroyers, succubae and human-like beings of flame and metal, oppressors and even mallet lords... it was a regular who's who of the slavering bloodthirsty bastards.

"I sincerely did not miss any of these bastards," I hum to myself before I realized it. Even so I simply shrugged it off.

"Hear hear!"

"I wished this was under better circumstances."

"Let's drive this filth out!"

"FOR THE HIGH HEAVENS!"

My guards rushed forth and met the screaming wretches head on with dutiful and zealous vigor, yet I hung back. I just needed a moment after all. Just need to gather a _wee_ bit of the ambient energies in the air... Oh this'll be _good_.

With a small grunt I took flight with Evos securely tucked into the crook of my arm as my hands struggled to keep back a burgeoning ball of brilliant light. By the time any of the oppressors in the rear noticed me and begin to try to intercept me it was far too late. Even as the first of them pushed themselves off the ground to strike me down I thrust my hands forward and willed the chaos forth... _hehehehe!_

The ball exploded forth like a hail of shrapnel. What it didn't slam into and outright killed upon impact exploded with such force that entire limbs, heads and other assorted body parts were either fatally crushed or else severed completely. It was glorious... Sadly the mallet lords were made of sterner stuff. Yet for all their might we angels will always have the advantage of maneuverability. Even so there were the demons who happened to have been behind the mallet lords at the time to be mindful of however. Worse yet there were more demons pouring... from...

_Damn it!_

It's worse than I thought. Summoners! Demons in a circle conjuring and maintaining a portal to Hell at the very mouth of the bridge! We can hold the line with all our might but it won't matter if sheer numbers from unending reinforcements would crush us! Not only that but if they break through... Doomed though they may be against Diablo, they had a fighting chance to at least stall him long enough for a counterattack to come and force him back. Worse, Diablo's goal is beyond a doubt the very heart of the High Heaven's, the Crystal Arch itself. He won't think twice about any survivors he leaves in his wake. I'd rather not witness what demons do to survivors yet again if it can be helped.

"Summoners in the back! Break off and annihilate them!"

Like a well oiled machine they broke off from their current engagements and took flight, each one darting into the air around the oncoming force in order to head straight for the summoners in the rear. As for me? A variation of the same spell as before, just for the oppressors and Azmodan's little flying fuckers if they show up... Bye bye you advantage stealing bastards.

Like before the ball of energy exploded outward. Unlike before where 'hail' pelted and mutilated the demon horde tendrils of light lashed forth and arced in the air to either erect an impromptu cage around the bridge or else surged forth along the bridge itself straight for the oncoming wave of grotesquely misshapen flesh. Those that could took no chances and dodged them if they could by any means necessary, even if it meant literally using their brethren as a shield of flesh and bone if they were truly desperate for their survival. Others simply didn't take heed or perhaps thought they could best my attack and thus didn't bother to dodge at all. Either way they weren't my true targets at any rate. As the tendrils on the bridge speared and gutted what they could in their own countercharge, the tendrils in the air waved and arced as the main body sought to keep those capable of flight on the bridge, but even they weren't my true targets. Each movement they made that grounded the demons was just the consequence of the spearheads themselves weaving through the air in pursuit of those that had managed to give chase to the squad of angels as they made for the summoners, roughly three demons for every one of the nine that had stayed with me.

Unfortunately despite my efforts two of my comrades were swarmed despite their best efforts to either shake them off or outright defend themselves. With both sides clawing at each other in a desperate struggle to win they soon fell as neither could concentrate on keeping themselves airborne. They ended up falling below the cloud line before long before my tendrils could reach them... I had to break off the pursuit lest I overexert myself more so than I already am at this moment with this much of my personal power being put into—

_**SMACK! CRASH!**_

... Ow. Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-what the hell hi—_DAMN IT I FORGOT ABOUT THE MALLET LORDS!_ Never mind that, I got overconfident! Never mind that either idiot, FLY DAMN YOU!

_**SMASH!**_

And I just got out in time... Regardless, I have to get the spell—DAMN IT! If I still had teeth they would probably be in danger of breaking now with how hard I would be gnashing them. They took to the air! They sure as hell aren't going to let me pull that trick off again any time soon if they can help it. _Damn it!_

... I don't have much of a choice, do I? I can't properly take to the air without getting mobbed. Despite being heavily dwindled I can't break through on foot with brute force without anything less than a platoon at my back. I can't even see if my squad had even succeeded in dispatching the summoners from here thanks to the girth of the freshly scarred mallet lords and the disheveled line of demons encroaching behind them. While I'm not proud of it I turned around and flew to and through the doorway of the Silver Spire's only land entrance.

... I hope the others are at least faring better than what I have planned.

XVX

As I had thought Diablo wasn't wasting time with tormenting his enemies this time around. My poor cherubs were utterly destroyed or mangled into a state being forced to shutdown. The emergency barriers had been smashed into and broken. Traps had been practically ignored or else dismissed with a telling claw strike. Angels had either been eviscerated, incinerated with nothing more than scorch marks to act as grave markers or had been flattened underfoot like insects. But there _were_ survivors. Either they were too injured to be considered worth an extra ounce of effort or by some miracle were ignored entirely... they wouldn't be for too long however; as fast as angels were, as _I_ was in this case, there was only so much space between us the approaching wave or murder and bloodthirst.

Those that could stand on their own power had happily acquiesced to my orders to grab as many weapons from the slain to fend off what was to come and have them deployed or distributed amongst the remaining defenders. Those that couldn't either due to heavy injury or even worse, dismemberment of entire limbs, were given choir rifles or shorts words if they couldn't make do with such heavy armaments... Even so, despite the grim situation at hand, or perhaps because of it, I couldn't help but smirk a little at seeing what remained of their stock of symphony mines being laid out in the only hallway into the primary chamber of this level of the Spire; my cohorts in the Sanctum were particularly proud of their creation. Sadly I couldn't afford to spend much time in overseeing what my fellow angels were doing: after repairing what I could of a gatling nest and ensuring it was operational for this desperate defense of ours I took to the half maimed remains of a defeated Cherubic Sentinel; far greater in size and strength to its more conventionally sized guardian predecessor, yet drew more power as well to operate to the point it needed a harmonic battery to even move. Though maimed and its harmonic battery was just as savaged as its hauling it was easy enough to patch up. Unfortunately however it was just that, a patch. Any more abuse to the exposed core after its emergency shutdown and it would without a doubt go off like a bomb, annihilating all unfortunate enough to be even at this artificial giant's feet should I get it to stand and fight again...

Here's to hoping the demons bastards are dumb enough to stick around for it! Come my child of stone and steel, RISE!

_Bzz-Zzt! BrrrrRrrrrrr..._

... RISE!

_Bzzzzz-Zzzt! Brrrr__**Rrrrrr**__..._

The I couldn't help but feel a spark of hope and pride as the colossal simulacrum of an angel pushed itself back onto its feet and grabbed what was left of its equally gigantic sword.

"They come!"

... there goes my other hope of fixing up at least a couple of guardian cherubs. Even so I couldn't help but hang my head and sigh... and scoff for the sake of my morose mood. Diablo behind me, an army of demons in front, this may very well be my last battle. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by that concept... be they mortal, immortal or a god, we all eventually meet our end, don't we? I certainly had a surprisingly good run at least... Even so I still couldn't help myself but chuckle at my impending fate even as I resign myself to this orgy of violence to come. Shall we, Evos?

By my will Evos shifted into the form of a glaive form, even so it was once again in the crook of my arm as I took to the air once more to begin a bombardment of Hail Shots for what it was worth. Like with the bridge there wasn't much need for aim. Those with rifles had a similar idea even if it was comparatively more wild than mine by virtue of distance. Even the gunner took part in the action whereas our melee counterparts merely awaited for the demons to eventually break through our kill box merely by throwing everything they had into it. Even so, I just needed to draw on the ambient energies, be it angelic or hellish...

XVX

Lesser demons fell in droves as concentrated bolts of angelic energy lashed out from their desiccated stronghold. Even the greater demons were not getting through unscathed as their innumerable siblings and allies were pelted with what could only be described as a barrage of streaking light which detonated whatever it touched upon impacted with no distinction whatsoever between demonkind and their inanimate surroundings. Still victory was afoot at long last. Diablo himself marches upon the High Heaven's last bastion of strength as well as their beating heart. If there was to be any sport or revenge to be had with their old enemies it would be now before they were wiped out completely once and for all, to say nothing that would await those the Prime Evil learns had deliberately slinked away on purpose without a sense of purpose given by the Prime Evil himself...

Without care the demons pressed on as they braved the bulwark of holy and wild magic magic aimed at them, all the while trampling over and flattening those who were dead or dying without a second thought. Eventually their sheer numbers overwhelmed the barrier of angelic hellfire trained on them even though it never relented in the slightest. The wiser demons immediately broke off to the sides as the angels in their dogmatic zeal were determined to at least have the satisfaction of bringing down as many enemies as they could with them. That much they could respect at least... Regardless, in splitting from the pack that stubbornly dove straight for the nest of over glorified archers came fresher and more aggravating problems that hadn't been seen in an age: mines. The kind Azmodan desired but none could retrieve, and not for a lack of effort. But that was a separate matter entirely now. Diablo reigned supreme now. His orders were absolute: corrupt and destroy the High Heavens. If there was anything left standing then it would serve as a reminder that the Prime Evil conquered the unconquerable. As such many of the more learned demons happily threw stones, rubble or even their own unsuspecting kin into the massacre that awaited them whilst several others attempted to simply force their way through just like they did with the gauntlet they just endured.

They didn't last particularly long.

Sadly this wasn't the only obstacle. Depending on _where_ they split off from they had at least one other obstacle to contend with. Those who began to flank to the left were soon stopped by a diminished cadre of angels who had seen better days, or, arguably worse if they had broken off to the right, a scarred replica of an angel the size of a small tower missing most of its shoulder. Conventional logic would dictate it would be nothing more than a lumbering brute due to its size, powerful but slow... veterans of the Eternal Conflict new better of course, even if this thing was utterly alien to them. The younglings however were foolishly cleaved apart with each swing of its half broken sword or else crushed under its boot or in its grip in the cases of the foolhardy that dared to fly near it. Those who haven't suffered this fate were either lucky enough that one of their allies were the unfortunate victims or were smart enough to make an attempt to dodge the hand in the first place, regardless, either set were keen on bringing this angelic behemoth by either maiming it the good old fashion way or hacking at its body or, more prudently, aiming straight for the gaping hole in its shoulder where lightning was crackling, a weak spot if there ever was one for such a false beast.

Then there was _him_...

A few who were once loyal solely to Azmodan flinched with mild hesitation before being reminded that he was gone. With the High Heavens burning at that very moment The Tinker wasn't of any interest or concern to any one or any thing any longer. Besides, how many of them still had reminders of his little trinkets painfully reminding them of their failed attempts to appease the Lord of Sin after so many centuries? Or were scarred by his weapons despite him seldom being seen on the battlefield itself? How many of their own were slain without having even seen the angel encampments? How many bones had decorated the base of the both fortress' walls and whatever stronghold this gnat personally overseen in its construction? They would have to take extra care to keep him alive as they finally paid him back for each and every vendetta he had accrued...

XVX

I knew it was simply a matter of time before they broke into this room. Judging from the stream I'm afraid my unit was slaughtered by the demons as I had feared. Then again given the siege it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that the demons were reinforcements from other invasion points, not that it was a comfort by any means...

Between their numbers and raw durability the fuckers stormed into the room despite the now countless dead that I had certainly hoped would've at least tripped them up. But no. As usual they were too ruthless to even be bothered by their dead kin in the pragmatic sense of the word. It was all too easy for them to stamp the dead into paste and gravel. Not even the mines were fazing them, much less dwindling their numbers to a manageable level...

Not even my attempts amounted to much before I spotted the first of my once comrades gunning straight toward me... his scarred and mutated appearance I only made me wish it was another demon instead. Was there even anything left of him beside his ability to fight before the demons decided to unchain him from whatever torment he had endured? O was it worse? That he succumbed to that very torment before everything but a death seeking madness remained, now finding finding the company of his new 'kin' preferable to our own for our failures to rescue him in the end?

... as terrible as it is to think it it was probably for the best if there wasn't anything left within him. As sad and horrific as it was it was easier to put down a murderous corpse that looked like an angel than what used to be a brother in arms who turned on us for his own sake if nothing else; it was a twisted mercy if there ever was one for us all that way. At the very least _they_ sought an escape from what happened to them rather than inflict it upon others by conscious choice.

Regardless, with him barreling straight toward me I could only fire one more barrage for what it was worth before I properly gripped Evos with both hands and struck out. The sickle he had armed himself had no hope and competing with the glaive's reach. He didn't try to dodge in the slightest. Sadly I couldn't give him more than a quick glance as I turned my attention to the others that followed him... malformed angels both bloodthirsty or sinister either shot straight for me or instead moved to ensure I didn't have an escape route. To make matters worse these notions were followed by proper demons. It wouldn't take much to swarm me at this point if I stayed still. Sadly, conversely, I simply didn't have that many options myself.

I didn't need to look to know that the butt end of Evos' form now sprouted a new glaive. I didn't trust my life to my beloved pet project for who knows how long without reason after all. Even if there was a malfunction, _which I sincerely hoped not if such an event occurred_, there was nothing to it but to dive head on given its inevitability. With a stab and a subsequent twirling slash two more of my corrupted comrades were finally put to rest as I hurtled to the edge of this impromptu formation where another awaited me. Unlike them however he was armed with a spear. As soon as I drew close enough he thrust the weapon at me... to be honest I was kind of insulted by it. For whatever bloodthirst he would doubtlessly possess at this point he was just too predictable. The blade and shaft was easy enough to be dodged despite literally hurtling toward him. In fact with the his hands were devoted slowly to the spear it was all too easy to run him through with a thrust of my own and promptly discarded to land in the... fray below.

As risky as it was I spared a glance to down below as I flew toward the sentinel. The firing line was simply overwhelmed... What angels that had any sense of self preservation had taken to the air like myself and like myself they were unfortunately challenged by our fallen brethren as well as their demonic allies. Worse yet any advantages we had now was matched by our mutilated counterparts who still clung to what was left of their original attributes. Despite it all however we fought on however even when it was inevitable that we'd all fall one by one from the sheer numbers alone...

Case and point being the sentinel's plight.

One good hit would be enough to undo my haphazard repairs on the sentinel's harmonic battery which was partially exposed by that damnable gap in what's left of its shoulder, it didn't matter from who or what. Thankfully the demons didn't seem to realize that just yet. Instead they were idiotically hacking away at the already weakened structure most relevant to its sword bearing hand even as the sentinel automatically whacked at them with its free hand. Sadly no matter how many it succeeded in crushing the demons were drawn to its wound like flies...

While it wasn't ideal in the slightest, my allies and myself were cut off from each other. Even though the seemingly endless waves were finally abating from the door, the most we could do now was stand back to back with whatever ally we could reach now. As such I flew to the sentinel's gaping wound to defend it even as it continued to swat away at its attackers. Thankfully with their attention rightfully on my behemoth construct, leaving only those that were pursuing me specifically as my challenge in not only reaching its ruined shoulder but landing upon it as well. Thankfully I was unmolested on the first part.

Due to my haste in reaching the sentinel my purchase on its scarred joint I ended up skidding and stumbling a few steps before swinging around with Evos at the ready. Barely a moment later I had to bring up Evos' shaft to block an overhead chop of a greatsword. In that same moment without thinking I kicked out at the chest of the fallen that just attacked me just before his charge brought his body crashing into mine. Yet due to the momentum of his lunge we both ended up staggering back from one another. Yet unlike me he didn't have the advantage of even ground to recover upon. In the half moment it took for him to recover his senses enough to spread his wings to grant him flight I lunged forth myself with a strike to the heart. Between the blade spearing his chest, the shock of the hilt ramming into it, the fallen's faceless head looked to it before looking to me as if the sheer notion of his death was impossible to comprehend. Perhaps it was in a way; I, my comrades and probably this fallen angel had indeed survived worse... Demons had unfortunately survived worse as well from both our hands and their own kin's. Decapitations would always remain an indisputable means of death for both sides however.

As the fallen's headless corpse dropped to the massacre below I was forced to take a step back and swing my polearm to deflect an oncoming strike from another polearm no less that was attempting to skewer me much like I done his own comrade just seconds before. Before I could respond in kind though I ended up deflecting another strike from another foe, a demon this time, who attempted to ram me at the same time. I barely was able to dogde it before I had to block a third strike and a fourth, from a third attacker and the first respectively as more and more of the damned host swarmed to me. Before I truly realized it my ability to evade was almost nonexistent... My ability to block, limited. Claws, blades, flames, curses... my armor could only block and divert so much before they became too scarred and cracked to offer any more protection. Even so I knew the only reason I hadn't been literally torn apart by now was that, united as they were under these circumstances, demons as a whole are and forever will be a divisive lot. As much as they wanted to rip and tear into me they were shoving into one another other to carve out a larger slice for themselves, throwing off each other aim or blocking them altogether. Even the ones in the back were trying to drag the ones in the front away in order to have a chance, none of whom were willing to share. Hell, if I waited just a bit longer I might get lucky and they'll brawl with one another, again!

But I didn't have time.

For all of their efforts to keep me pinned even as they snapped and snarled at one another they seemed to have forgotten my one avenue to escape, the gaping hole straight above this mob. Worse yet, for them, they forgotten _what_ it was they were standing on, and their negligence was coming down on them like a vengeful stone and metal bolt!

With a war cry erupting from my once lips my wings' tendrils lashed out in all directions to strike at my attackers. With the immediate circle stunned I jumped and immediately flew—

"YOU'RE NOT LEAVING!"

NO! _NO-NO-NO-NO-AXE-AXE-AXE-AXE—_

"_GAHAAAHH!"_

_**SMACK!**_

_DAMN IT! FUCKING DAMN IT! DESPERATE BUT BY ALL THAT IS HOLY, DAMN IT! _

"... grrrnhhh!"

... just keep flying. Keep. Flying! You can regrow a new arm just like before! Just be glad you have one hand and Evos still—

"_Go~t Yo~u!"_

"GAAH!"

_**SMASH!**_

The world may be spinning, my self inflicting wound blinding me to compound that, but I knew my surroundings well enough to at least take a _VENGEFUL SWING AT THE FUC-!_

_**CLANG!**_

_SON OF A BITCH!_

_**SKWISH!**_

"_GAAAAAAAH!"_

Through the pain I could hear that demented giggle from the fallen literally standing over me. "Oh Jack, Jack, Jack! Do you remember me? Do you? Do you?"

Probably not and all the thankful for it—_**KRCH!**_ "GHAAAAH!"—DON'T TWIST IT YOU DEMONICALLY WARPED BITCH!

"I think I finally understand it now! I think I understand what it is that made you so odd!"

_**KEERN!**_ "_Hrnnn!_"

"It's intoxicating, isn't it? This free will as you called it..."

_Oh __**fuck**__ you—__**KRN!**__—_"_SADISTIC BITCH IS WHAT YOU HAVE!"_

"And It's _Wo~nde~rfu~l!_" she sang as she kicked my arm away in a fitful attempt to _KNOCK HER THE FUCK OFF!_ Thankfully she wasn't paying attention to my wings. Just a little more...

Oh damn it a crowds gathering around us. One sadist is enough! Go! Go away! Shoo!

"We're going to have fun, so much _fu~n_!" she cooed above me as her 'face' inched closer and closer to my own.

Had it not been so bright I might of missed the translucent blue light that was almost reflected from her darkened hood. Better yet it drew he attention away from me with a curious "hm?" being hummed. I couldn't help myself from leaping at this opportunity.

The tendrils of my wings lashed out like bludgeoning whips and drove her from me. As she corrected herself in the air energy that had coalesced by my will shot out and ran her through in several places, particularly her head. Even so I immediately wrapped as many tendrils I could spare on the spear that pinned me to the floor and promptly yanked—

"_AAAAARGH!_"

_**Clang!**_

_GAH! DAMN IT! GRRRNnnn..._ sometimes I can't help but damn angel durability! DAMN. Alright. Deep 'breath'. The light... did a portal open? Where'd the crowd go? Turning around I soon found that there was indeed a portal open, but for the life of me I couldn't comprehend it at that moment. Only the Council has access to the Spire's portal system when lockdown protocols were initiated. And was that... Yes. Fighting. The sounds of finding and dying were coming from beyond the portal. As in on the literal other side of the room! Guttural bellows, grunting, war cries... too normal to be demons. Not Angels eith—humans! Humans are in High Heaven? In the _Spire_ no less? How did—

... "heh... Hehheh... HehahahaHAHA!"

It was then my brain rebooted... in your faces you grotesque abominations... IN YOUR FACE,DEMONS! IN YOUR DAMNABLE FACES! FACE THE WRATH OF THE NEPHALAM, JACKASSES! "_HAHAHAHAHA!"_

_**KRRRR—KROOM!**_

Immediately I swirled around, Evos once again forming a glaive, in the direction of the—oh damn.

One of them hit the core at long last... and the sentinel was collapsing straight toward me as golden lightning arced and crackled from the harmonic battery. Even from here I could see the receptacle struggling in its losing battle to contain the concentrated essence of the High Heavens within its shell...

Be it another battlefield or somewhere in Sanctuary, I dove for that portal just as the sentinel's face crashed into the floor, just before the last restraints crumbled away into nothing to unleash a literal wave of holy energy thundered forth, leaving a trail of destruction behind that ultimately cared for no allegiance, not even an angel's. Though I didn't stay to watch I didn't have a measure of doubt knowing it was all but chasing me to the portal even as a storm of holy bolts struck whichever and whatever they fancied. The portal included...

... I noticed too late that the portal's natural blue hue took a more golden orange color as I flew straight into it.

XVX

Great Forest of Jura

_Everyone_ looked up to the blue sky despite their circumstances as a presence made itself known. From his cave a dragon would've raised his own equivalent of an eyebrow as this presence barged into the forest without the courtesy of announcing itself first. But alas, since being sealed all he could do was idly wonder as to what purpose, if any, this being had with the forest or if it simply passing through. From the forest floor goblins would wring their hands in worry, ogres would murmur to themselves and sharpen their weapons as a precaution and the lizardmen would similarly become more guarded as they tried to calm themselves from the alarm that was this sudden appearance of an as yet seen being whose mere presence was shockingly on par with their slumbering god in the cave. As for the dryads within their grove they could only frown in concern and puzzlement as an severely injured armored knight with glowing wing-like tendrils sprouting from his back gracelessly landed as an almost boneless heap on the forest floor after a short and awkward fall from the tree line. From his injuries they couldn't begrudge him some rest in order to recover... but only time would tell as to what his mere presence would result in if he stayed far too long.

As for this 'knight', all he could do was push himself to his feet, awkwardly dust himself off with one arm before quickly shuffling off to the protection of the trees. All the while his head was swiveling to and fro, though it was unclear if he was taking stock of his situation or if he was looking for enemies out for his blood.

**A/N: Yep, a SI. In an AU no less... Yeeeeeep.**

**I'll be honest, I kind of went in half blind with this one; I admit I never played either Diablo before nor have I read any of the books. An admitted mistake I performed once before with another story. I can only hope to do better this time around.**

**For all of those who are out for blood for me basically screwing around with Diablo lore, namely adding guns and so on with Mary Sue esque qualities... the most I can say that, as hinted at, he's been around quite awhile and, to be honest, not that keen of fighting fair. As best showcased in **_**Sleeping with the Girls**_** by **_**AdmiralTigerclaw**_** people may not that be keen on playing by the rules if their lives are on the line. (Squints.) Look me in the eye and tell me that if you could you **_**wouldn't**_** make a fuckton of bombs to throw at demons if they were coming after you out of principle's sake. Or blow up their heads with a sniper rifle if you can somehow replicate a sniper rifle. Or use a nuke... preferable from a far distance. Tell me you wouldn't I say!**

**Anyway... I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

**Monkeybandit2, making off with your attention. No refunds.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Yeah all know the drill. I do not own Diablo (beyond the purchased game). I do not own That time I was reincarnated as a Slime (beyond the purchased manga). I do not need to be reminded that I do not own them and not rich because of it. Carry on! (... waits till you leave before breaking down and crying because of the lack of ownership.)**

Out of Place: Forced out the door

Chapter Two

Jack's Cabin, Great Forest of Jura, a month later

Conventional wisdom would dictate that I should have left quite some time ago to return to the High Heavens, or that I at least rest till I at least closed that damnable gap in my chest. But for intents and purposes I was in an unknown territory and _something_, I'm not sure what however, was interfering my attempts to create a portal back. Perhaps it was a side effect from the one that brought me here when it was affected by the sentinel's destruction. Then again I suppose I was dumped off into a theurmatic dead zone, rare though that was. For all I know I was somewhere in Sanctuary, or perhaps some hidden green patch of Pandemonium that somehow escaped the oversight of the Eternal Conflict. Or, knowing my fucking luck that brought me to the Diablo-verse... was that right? Verse? What did it stand for again? Not a song, that much I know... damn it I forgotten another word—UNIVERSE! THAT WAS IT! HA! HAHAHA! IN YOUR FACE OLD AGE!

... anyway. Where was I?

Right. For principle's sake I'm adding "tossed into another universe" to the list here. While doubtful, if I got fucked over by a demon-thing god of madness once before that started this whole mess for me then I could very well have been fucked over again by sheer random crap. Which kind of begs the question of "how do I get back?", yet that was a problem for when I had both arms to make defending myself from experiments gone wrong easier. For now though, after building myself a little fortress cabin in the woods surrounded by traps for _any_ potential demons that would come visiting, I was bored...

As tempted as I was to go outside to hopefully learn where I was at least, again, missing an arm... I'd rather not defend myself against demons or other beasts with one arm yet again if I can avoid it. Alas that brought a new problem... should I expend what energy I had been harvesting from the ambient energies within the forest for my survival to make both ink and paper from scratch or do I suck it up and just wait for my missing arm to be remade by said energy?

_Ugh..._

... I'm probably going to regret it later. But that was for later. Alright. Just gather the energy. Concentrate. Visualize. Yadda yadda yadda...

There we go. Now the ink... now the quill—no wait, I think I picked up a feather a while ago. Now where did I—ah. There it is!

'Grinning' in self satisfaction of saving myself some work I experimentally dipped the spinal end of the feather into the conjured substance and written a little gibberish for my own self amusement. Sadly it wasn't as effective as I had hoped. It'll do though. Now where was that sheet I brought—there it is. Honestly, with only one desk and chair for the room it shouldn't have been that hard to find.

... Okay maybe not hard but... Bah. I'm old. Now where was I before the Diamond Gates had been destroyed...

Right. "_slipping away_". Got it. Just got to fix that smudge mark though. Right. Good to go. New page then. I Flip it over and almost begin to scratch out a new paragraph before I pause. I then flip it back to write the number one on the top corner of the page before turning it over again.

Now...

"_It all started like a normal day for me back then... even if it escapes me now. I would honestly like to say it would be comparable to the lives of humans in Sanctuary yet that feels... incorrect. The humanity I hailed from was, is even, significantly advanced in terms of technology from what I remember. Carriages that had no need for horses to move. Electricity—"_

I couldn't help but shiver at that...

"—_to power conveniences such as—"_

Damn it. Forgot another word... I remember what it is, thankfully, I just can't remember its name... Ah well. Improvise.

"— _ice boxes—_

Close enough.

"— _to keep things cold without the need for ice or even to light up a room without the need for either magic, hearths or sunlight reflected upon mirrors connected to the outside. Even more luxurious forms of food that couldn't be cooked with a simple kitchen's fireplace.—"_

... I miss food. Hell, well over three thousand years and I still remember and miss pizza. It haunts me now and then, that cheesy taste. The grease. The smell... I think I understand that skeleton's plight when it came to... wine. Wait. Did I meet a talking skeleton at one point? I don't think so... Huh. Okay then. I'll just keep moving on then before that bugs the hell out of me.

"—_Regardless of this however it was, for all intents and purposes a normal day for me back then... till I met __**Him**__. The bastard who ruined my life for the whimsy of it all. Sheger—"_

... Shegerious? Sheggis? Sheogin? Sheggers? Sheg-sheg? Damn it! I know who he is! I know there was a "Sheg" in there! _Ugh..._ Damn my crippled memory. Fuck it, I'm winging it!

"—_Shegeroth, the demon prince—"_

No wait. That was Warhammer. Similar sounding title though, I think. Had "dead" in it. Dead... Dead... I begin to tap the quill on the table away from the parchment in thought_._ Deadra? No wait, I think it was pronounced DAEdaaaa_RIC_! DAEDRIC! THAT WAS IT! Right, time to fix this!

"—_Shegeroth, Daedric Prince of Madness. A god-like entity from another realm entirely that, as the title suggests, lacks reason for what he does. He could as soon embrace you like a long lost relative and promptly declare you're plotting treason against a small nation born on the underside of your nose before handing you a piece of mutton and walking off, or likewise repeatedly stab you with a spoon simply because he thought you were something tasty to eat before being embroiled in an argument with a rock over which mushroom was trying to ascend into godhood by virtue of being covered in paint that he himself spilled on it for a completely different reason. Never mind setting a random wanderer on fire simply because it amused him at the time before turning him into a fish, tossing said victim into a pond... and somehow setting both on fire at once simply because, again, it amused him. Or, in my particular case, abduct him and place him within another universe for that same reason."_

Perhaps it's embellishment but given what he did to me I'm not putting it past him, the dick.

"_I may not recall what was said that day, but I do remember that I regretfully didn't believe he was who I assumed he was initially mimicking before it was far too late. Nor could I forget the darkness that enveloped me moments after. Before I knew it I was engulfed in light and sound... It blinded me, it deafened me, it stripped me of everything but my life. But even as I felt it change me from the inside out, even as I screamed for the sake of my shock only to not be heard by my own ears... it was beautiful. Horrifying for having been placed there and becoming something else without my knowledge of what was becoming of me, but indescribably, incomprehensibly beautiful nevertheless."_

"GAH!"

Hrm!?

I already twirled in my chair to face the door, Evos in the form of a sword in hand and at the ready—

"HELP ME! HEL—LOOK OUT!"

"GIANT BOULDER, RUN!"

"I WANNA GO HOME!"

...

Slowly I turned my head toward the actual source of the noise: a pipe. One of a series of small expenditures on my part long before the paper and ink. Wasn't the smartest move I admit but I like to think a network of 'listening' posts would at least give me _some_ forewarning for demons... or something else... Panicky... travelers? Foragers perhaps? Bandits at worst? Not so much.

Ugh... they must've stumbled upon my traps. Now which pipe did this run though? Looks like it's the eastern one. May as well see what the damage is. Perhaps if no one died they'll be content with leaving me be after getting them out of my domain as it were. If they did die before I get there... not really much I can do about it. Bury the corpses maybe? Either way with any luck I would finally have an idea of where I am.

With Evos now returning to its default form of a staff I marched for the door...

And halted...

... I may want to put on a disguise. An armored, hooded and _winged_ 'man' didn't exactly say "leave the possibly crazed hermit alone" after all...

If this keeps up it may take me a year to recover if I stay here... if I'm lucky that is.

XVX

Forest proper

I forgotten how annoying it is to be in a rush without wings. You'd think after all my disguised trips to Sanctuary would beat that into me but _nooo_... But I couldn't break cover if i wanted to achieved my desired goal. Made dodging my own ground based traps a lot harder though...

When I arrived I couldn't help but be amazed at how far they had gotten... it was a fair distance from here to my cabin alone. Perhaps a quarter of an hour if one can travel in a straight line from there to here. From the cabin to the edge where the outermost traps lay in wait? Closer to an hour... This... expedition, if you can call it that, didn't just brush along my defensive perimeter by accident, or were simply curious... in a demented extreme sort of way... this was nothing less than a brute force hunt for something.

... a poorly armed one but a hunt all the same. Poorly armed yet extremely lucky if this particular group was anything to go by. That or they lost a lot of their own comrades to my traps... Either or. I just can't help but wonder what these little green... humanoids? Is that a word? I want to say goblins but they don't really look like those diminutive hunchbacked thieving little bastards... humanoids until further notice then.

Right. Where was I?

Right. Motive. What reason would they have to muscle through my traps? For that matter, now that I'm noticing it, what's with the inordinate amount of sacks bulging with... something. Loot perhaps? Supplies? Oh! There's one open! Looks like... food? Raw meat and gathered fauna at least. Granted I'm not much for the study or nature but I'm fairly sure those in particular are used more for... incense...

Did I accidently plant my house in the way of some sort of tribute run? Did they think my traps were some sort of test from whatever it is they're trying to appease? Aaaaahhh... that... that makes me feel a bit like a bastard.

"Is... everyone alright?"

All heads that were originally bowed down due to exhaustion snapped up to me in surprise. While disconcerting enough, their eyes widened to the size of dinner plate at the sight of me as if I were some terrible beast about to be set upon them.

"Is-is-is that him?" one squeaked.

"M-maybe..."

"I personally thought he'd be bigger..."

"I-i-i-ttsss him! It's gotta be! The Invader!"

... I suppose that might be true from a certain point of view if things turn ugly.

I bit back a sigh and the urge to hang my head in exasperation as the humanoids darted about the scene, collecting their belongings and huddling together as a tightly packed mob for all that it was worth to defend themselves from me should I attack. Worse yet for them they seemingly forgotten _all _of their dilapidated weapons on the ground in favor of clutching their other possessions... I'll be honest, I couldn't help but pity them more and more. From looks alone I'd be amazed they didn't struggle in picking them up in the first place given their childish sizes. Then again they had to have _some_ strength in order to make it so far with both weapons and what I can only assume to be tribute.

Before I could muse any further one of the humanoids, a fairly scrawny one wearing a slightly oversized breastplate and wearing a bandana headband, slowly edged forward with a sack desperately clutched within his arms. Next thing I know he's on his knees and placed the sack a fair distance from himself before bowing down and prostrating himself before me.

"Oh Great One! We've come bearing gifts to beseech ye for thy blessing and protection from our enemies!"

... huh? "Huh?"

"Oh please Great One! We beg of you to grant us thy immeasurable power!" By now the others joined in the groveling after presenting me with their own offerings...

... what the honest fucking hell is going on here...

Okay... Just let me try to compose myself here...

"Why is it that you seek me out to begin with?"

As one they all flinched and finally dared to carefully glance at each other, conveying a scared, soundless conversation before me... As weird as it sounds I couldn't help but be a little jealous of that; we certainly didn't have that sort of thing amongst the Host. The most we had toward silent communication was sign language!

... unfortunately that never really caught on amongst angels. It wasn't like we were deaf after all. The humans sure appreciated it though. Well the cultures that gave a damn about their disabled at least.

"I-if we may be so bold, Great One... Since your arrival the entire forest has been thrown into a state of anarchy!"

... ooooookaaaaaaayyy... while not out of the realm of possibilities, I can tell you all that you had to be specifically looking for a portal opening up to notice it or its users presence. That or the area of teleportation was particularly theurgically neutral field where it was as expected as a pot crashing in a silent room. That aside however, how is my presence alone causing any at all chaos?

"The local beasts grow restless from worry, and from they have began to lash out at everything that even enters their territory!"

... I think that happened when Tyreal fell as well. No wait... Dead people and Khazra. Yep.

"Villages now war with each other over whom to dedicate themselves to, our great Guardian God or you, oh Great One!"

... I didn't even do anything beyond build a cottage to hide in. Why would I have some crazed cult in the making forming in my name? I sure as hell am not keen on following in Inarius' footsteps thank you very much!

"Worse yet outside tribes, bands other creatures and beasts that don't call this place home have taken to the forest in search of new territory to claim as their own!"

Alright, I get where this is going... you want me to save your particular village, don't you?

"So we implore you! Pease grant us your protection to save our village, Great One!"

I knew it...

... whether I meant to or not I created a mess, haven't I? I just hope Imperius doesn't catch wind of this; assuming I am in Sanctuary and I simply encountered a previously unknown species, he is the most stringent toward the noninterference policy with humanity beyond special sanctions that didn't, in their eyes at least, violate the pact.

"Where is your village?"

The humanoids perked up at that. "Y-you'll come? You'll protect us?"

I honestly didn't want to say it... Granted I was screwing around a bit but I am in no shape to fight against a demon if it came down to it, much less a major battle. But... I can't in good conscience ignore their plight if my presence is indeed throwing this forest's sense of balance off.

"I will if it can be helped."

"YAY!" the humanoids instantly cheered as they shot up to their feet only to run over to me, drop back onto their knees and kiss my feet! Ugh! No! I might not feel it through the armor but no! _Shivers in disgust._

"Stop that!"

They instantly stopped and once more shot up to their feet, their bodies hunched as if expecting...

... Calm 'breath.' Calm 'breath'.

"Now collect your... tribute. They'll be better served to feed your village than to appease me." Oh food, how I miss you...

"At once, Generous One!" they practically praised me as they shouted as one as they did what I had asked of them. It took a fair bit of self restraint not to shake my head at the scene. I did sigh however as I considered shedding what I had thought to be a good disguise, this robe which covered my form like a monk's would... who happened to wear gauntlets. Hid my wings well enough though as it had in ages past to at least work on the unsuspecting and the unknowing... For the sake of diplomacy however I opted against shedding my attempted disguised at the moment. While it seems my being here is enough to create this madness, would being revealed that I am an angel only add to it by inviting trouble for any demons that lurked nearby? Wait, did they even know I'm an angel to begin with? Now that I think about it didn't they just compare me to this "Guardian God"? What is going on here? At any rate however I guess this is all the more reason to try to be low key as possible till I receive more information.

_Sigh..._ I guess I should at least be courteous to see what became of their comrades in facing my traps. Unless of course this group before me was all there is period, in which case good for them. The amount of sacks however begs a different answer however. Now let's see-...

You've got to be pulling on my leg.

XVX

Later...

Fun fact: in a categorical system of what I personally hate most, from least to greatest, imps are the second most hated thing on my personal list. Why? Because they are small, they are fast, and they are devious little bastards that would do the Burning Hells proud if most of their denizens weren't killing them for sustenance or for sport. In fact it was because of those two typical reasons that I seldom had to keep these cretins in mind. As such when they somehow have the twisted fortune to wander through the entire battlefield without being gutted, eaten or crushed underfoot they near always, NEAR ALWAYS, are too damn small enough to be properly mutilated by my automatic defense systems! Oh, a set of impaling spikes? Too damn short or too damn thin. Trap doors leading to an unstable crystalline pocket that would vaporize demonic bastards? Too damn light. Extra sturdy trip wires because I lacked the resources for something else? EYE LEVEL FOR THESE FUCKERS! By the time anyone, myself included, notices these damnable spawn they basically wrecked the entire defensive network in a mindless rampage of demented mischief! And when a demon commander somehow _realizes_ this typical flaw I have because we as a whole typically expect demons either our size or half as large as a small mountain? Oh you can bet your wings and ass he'll make a damn good effort to gather as many imps as he can and set them loose on my bunkers and forts before sending in the main horde. We've lost a fair number of defensive positions like that... We're just lucky that thanks to their base natures this was a seldom used tactic due to the sheer lack of imps to employ...

_Doubly_ so when discipline was an issue amongst the ranks of the force trying to use this tactic...

But still, why am I ranting this? It's simple really. It is the closest explanation I have as to why a grand total of thirty self proclaimed goblins had _somehow_, _**somehow**_, managed to _survive_ my little death course with little more than a few broken bones at worst. Even then only two goblins suffered that. I do not mean then any ill will toward them but my pride as both the Grand Artificer of the High Heavens and a veteran of the Eternal Conflict is nothing less than bruised by that.

But enough of that...

After collecting the goblins that somehow _miraculously_ escaped my traps (as opposed to tearing them apart), and making stretchers for their injured (again a pride stingingly low number despite the circumstances), we had trundled off to the village these goblins (who are already leagues better than the thieving little bastards I had to defend my supplies from) had gradually became accustomed to my presence had obliged me with my questions: evidently I was in the Great Forest of Jura, which I never heard of, much less knew the location of. Not entirely that surprisingly really: Sanctuary was a vast place and names changed over time. The "Guardian God" I am inadvertently challenging with my presence alone was a great dragon named Veldora whom is said to be resting within a cavern after a terrible battle some centuries ago. As to why he hadn't seem to take action was something of a mystery; perhaps he was still too injured to even make an attempt; maybe he just didn't care. Either way I had never heard nor seen a dragon in Sanctuary in many an age... which marginally brings me to a point that both worried and intrigued me: other than the definition of the word, Sanctuary was... unknown to them. As much as I was inclined to take that in itself as proof of my displacement, I have met humans who neither knew what the world's name was or even actually called it Sanctuary. As such the same could apply to this situation as well: innocent ignorance at best.

In the end however I would ultimately have to wait till later for find out. We had arrived...

... it looked closer to a refugee camp than a village. Even if it weren't the case the buildings themselves were rather ramshackle even by a destitute populace's standards. They can certainly keep the sun out at least. But still, with the multitude of goblins huddling around the fires, especially those bearing cauldrons that were dispensing what I can only assume to be soup or a similar substance, the vibe was certainly there. And as if I wasn't feeling guilty enough already, admittedly I probably wasn't, each one both near and afar was not only frozen in terror but outright gaping at me as if I had came to destroy them all. Aside from the group that accompanied me, only one other group had any sense of wit left to them: a group of elders no bigger than their much younger counterparts making their way toward us. Hm... I suppose that's their typical height then? And here I was suspecting that they sent children in to find me.

"Oh Mighty Traveler, we thank you for coming to our humble village!" one of the elders cried as he and they threw themselves at my feet. "Are we right to assume you have came to bless us with your divine protection?"

I didn't answer right away... not when I was staring at the whole village who had followed suite in the act like their lives depended on it. The only ones who haven't joined in were my escorts, but even they looked just like their fellow villagers just seconds before the elders came to grovel at my feet... In short it was as disturbing as it was disconcerting to me.

"As I had said before, I have came to help where I can."

"You have? Thank you! Thank you oh Kind One!" the elder from before said as he shot his head up with tears in his eyes. Likewise a number of the other goblins dared to peek up at me with hopeful trepidation...

Granted they are desperate, but... I just sincerely hope that this was not the start of how Inarius fell from all sense of grace... _Shiver..._

"May we speak in private?" I asked.

"Certainly Great One!" a different elder spoke up as she gestured to the largest of the huts within the village. The goblins that happened to be in that direction immediately parted in all haste even if it meant shoving others out of their way. While I honestly doubted it would provide much from the scrutiny of the masses here, it was better than nothing. As such we made our way to it as my escorts began to distribute the offerings to the denizens of the village...

XVX

... I'll be honest, lack of privacy aside, given the sheer amount of fear they displayed I would've figured a number of them, or rather _almost all of them_, wouldn't dare come near our current abode. But no. Try as I might I could barely find any visible gap that didn't have a curious eye poking through it. In fact I'm a little amazed as well. I certainly didn't give the goblins any credit; I honestly thought any of these huts would've crumpled under the weight of even one of the goblins upon the roof given its wood and straw nature. But enough of that...

What was once narrated had been spoken of again, though perhaps with added perspective and detail: since this... unrest began with my arrival the local beasts had became irritated, threatened even despite my lack of direct presence and began to lash out all the more viciously at the hunting parties that risked themselves against them, or worse yet they barged into villages and attacked the goblins directly. Worse yet groups previously unaffiliated with the Jura Forest such as Dire Wolves, orcs... thankfully a kind unrelated to the ones I thankfully still remembered. Even then War... something. Warcry—CRAFT! WARCRAFT! HA! HAHAHA! ... they're easily more preferably than the WAAAGH! happy bastards. Where was I? Right. Pig-orcs. Pig-orcs have began to invade the forest. Last but not least were the bird men... sadly that one was more of a rumor that the elders were unsure of. We would have to come to that later however when the pertinent issues have been dealt with.

Between the beasts, the orcs, and encroaching dire wolves, and possibly bird men as they called them, and those who already inhabited Jura resources became stretched as each faction began to intrude on each other's territory, and as such competition became violent soon after. The orcs it seems were a hodgepodge between wanting to be left alone while foraging/hunting and outright raiding others supplies, where or not there were individual factions or just one whole group playing out different tactics was to be determined later. The goblin villages in turn started to take more... proactive measures to defend themselves, namely by merging together separate villages into a single one like the one we are currently in. Yet with such a sudden influx of new mouths to feed and competition already having become fierce the more aggressive clans as it were have taken to destroying or subsuming other villages that were so much as marginal threat to their newfound superiority, especially if they had supplies worth taking. Worse yet some of these 'clans' seem to be under the impression they were pleasing me by doing this... How _flattering_, the psychotic bastards.

Whether my unwanted deity status would either force them to bend knee or encourage them into attacking this village should it be discovered that I'm assisting them would have to remain to be seen... Thankfully the most immediate issue was a rather straight forward case: dire wolves.

Like the orcs, and debatabley the goblins, they too began to aggressively expand their own claim in the forest. Unlike the others there was nothing remotely ambiguous about their approach: what they found they killed or drove off to kill for later. Conquest in its more simpler form... sadly their current route was putting this particular village in danger. In fact they had skirmishes with the dire wolves advanced scouts. Skirmishes that cost them heavily and put an estimate of how many it took to defeat even one wolf: ten goblins to one wolf. Bad odds that was almost reminiscent of our more dismal engagements in Pandemonium... Even so, by their math though their village of one-hundred-sixty-eight was no match for an estimated horde of a hundred wolves bearing down on their own when the remnants of their own warband came straggling back from a skirmish with the wolves to bear them the news. With no escape for them that didn't lead them into hostile territory they decided to risk everything by searching out the new 'god' dwelling in the forest and hope against hope I was a benevolent one.

... well, at least I have my work cut out for me.

Seeing as beasts, even ones seemingly acting with a surprising amount of aggression to be labeled as raiders in this particular scenario, don't adhere to a sense of schedule it would probably be best to start laying down a wall, maybe a thick fence with gaps in it so the goblins can spear their enemies through if push came to shove. Of the two I have more confidence in the wall however. Both perhaps as two layers of security? It might not work on the other factions but animals, even abnormally aggressive ones only have so much determination and cunning when faced with such an obstacle before moving onto easier targets.

Right then. Fence, wall, spears and arrows. That should do for the short term. Afterwards I guess I should pay a visit to Veldora... granted I might be able to kick his ass with a hole in my chest and a missing arm but maybe, _just_ maybe I can coax him into restoring order... Failing that then I'll just have to improvise. If our presences are indeed being felt to such a degree to be the cause of either chaos and order by our proximity to each other then perhaps I can either shroud his aura behind a series of seals... I suppose I could also do the same for myself but that would definitely interfere with my regeneration. Alternatively I could just simply leave... that however did not sit well with me; I should at least make an effort to fix this mess I created before walking away. I may be a self imposed Archangel of Chaos but I do have a conscious thank you very much!

"_Awooooooooooo!_"

... I ran out of time, didn't I?

"A wolf howl? This close?! We're doomed!"

"Nooo! Noo!"

"Aeeeeeiii!"

... note to self: straw walls were not for sound proofing. Not that I would use them beyond necessity but it would be good for future reference.

Regardless however...

Though I had no real too I grunted nevertheless as I stood up.

"Oh Great One, are you off to defend our village?" an elder asked as I tried to scoot my way to the door without accidentally bumping into anyone or anything along the way.

"Yes, yes, I am," I answered while trying to keep an annoyed sigh out of my voice. Honestly, I thought that much would be obvious—wait, before I head out... I turned my head to the elders. "And I would very much prefer it if you called me Jack instead."

"As you wish, Great Jack!" one managed to say just as the others halfway turned to one another as if to deliberate. Needless to say they had been stopped short of just that.

"Just Jack, _please_!" I half grumble as I step out into the village proper.

Thankfully it looked like the goblins at least weren't crippled by fear. Already they herded what I can only assume to be noncombatants into the relative safety of the huts whereas everyone else took up arms with everything they could get their hands on, be it their poorly maintained weapons, sharpened sticks or, sadly, ladles complemented with cauldron lids for shields. Sadly their sense of tactics was as lacking as their quality of weaponry, though I couldn't blame them; ten, maybe fifteen goblins per group was spread out in the village around every possible entrance to the village. The chief problem however was that the village lacked any walls or even fences, meaning they had to ring around the village to mount a perimeter defense. While it would certainly keep any approaching enemies from being unchallenged, stall them even till the others came tearing through the village to help them. While this may work well and good against those similar to themselves, namely other goblins, who might try a surrounding tactic, but a focused charge would easily break through the perimeter. But against a foe with a ten-to-one ratio in their favor? They would need to be at least one huge mob in order to mount anything resembling an effective defense. But in order to do so they would have to sacrifice the outlying huts and the families inside them. Villages like these, even if forced into existence, were usually close knit communities that often lacked proper warriors of any sort. The loss of these huts would do nothing but annihilate the morale of the defenders...

I need to scout. Gauge how long it would take for this horde to reach the village. If I'm and they are lucky we can at least erect a fence to at least narrow the access points for the wolves to get in, and thus make the village easier to defend.

... alternatively I could also potentially snipe the furry little bastards long before they get here, thus eliminating the need for a hastily constructed fence. I may have to limit the power output, maybe even use scatter shots to help ensure my poor long range aiming skills were compensated for by an increased likelihood of hitting... Sniping it is then!

Wait...

Quick look, determine whether or not to build a fence, then snipe-bombardment. Maybe giggle about it a little later. Satisfied with my plan, I only hesitated for a second before deigning to discard my disguise once I was outside; as much as I had wished otherwise, in my haste to create this robe I failed to create slits for my wings to freely travel through lest they tear apart the robe. I didn't bother waiting for a minute to see if I was noticed or not.

It was seconds after I had cleared the canopy that I had a clear line of sight... well, as clear as one can get with a forest with the setting sun. Even so landmarks could easily be seen: mountains in the distance, bluffs, hills, the typical things you'd find in a semi-mountainous forest it appears. However a crude tower jutted out of the forest. Crude but effective. Regardless, from a distance it was hard if there was anyone on it. Even harder to see what they were once movement was spotted. But I can guage their size: taller than the goblins for sure. But they weren't a problem as of yet. Especially since in all likelihood they couldn't see me as well either. Now where is... there.

There they are. Moving as one colossal pack in the same direction. Easy to track, easier to target, easier to justify my preferred method of attack. Still though, if I'm even mildly correct then we have maybe... dusk before they get here? Enough time to bolster the defenses, however marginal. Probably better for it: should I not use enough power the 'pack' would eventually split off into groups. Whether or not they would have any interest in the village afterwards however would remain a mystery. Should I use too much and an inverse of sorts would likely happen: I wipe out the whole pack but in turn I draw unwanted attention on the village before I could enact my admittedly half baked plan to bring back a sense of balance to the forest... from there it may as well be a roll of the dice given the different factions at play here.

... and sadly the more I think about it bringing the wolves _to_ the village _may_ be the better option for the village. It would put them at risk, sure, but unfortunately a battle up close would be less likely to draw attention than the destruction wrought by spellcraft if I get carried away. It would certainly be less noticeable than unexplained brilliant lights and an entire section of forest chewed up or even demolished for no explicable reason.

As such, with another sigh, I promptly descended and landed back into the village... sadly in plain view of the outright gawking of the goblins just as they, if they weren't struck numb with my appearance, immediately dove to their hands and knees in worship... _Shudder._

"Please do not worship me!" I ended up commanding without thinking. Though I felt a little guilty for the forceful tone it was enough to shock them back into at least standing on their knees... or in the numbed cases' startled into falling flat onto their asses. "Right now I have a task for you however."

"What is it, Oh Great—"

"I prefer Jack."

"Great Jack?"

... must... resist... urge... to... slap... hand.. to—wait, I only have one hand. Unless I'm willing to drop Evos, _which I will never do if it can be helped_, or smack myself in the face with Evos, that's an urge I can ignore all the more easily... still annoyed though.

"I know this isn't something you wish to hear but," I pointed Evos to the nearest hut, "I have need for you all to tear down your homes to their base materials."

XVX

With over a hundred goblins under my command the only surefire sign that there was a village here was the colossal dirt patch of grass having been stamped out of existence. The newly constructed fence might qualify too, made from the support beams of their homes plus a couple of trees I had personally cut down, but that was another matter.

... let me start over. Ahem.

After adorning my cloak again to cut down on the stupefied stars, with a hundred goblins at my command and a few cut trees to help make it when the huts weren't enough the fence had long since complete before night fell. With time to spare I might add. After the fence had been built to I had them create a shallow trench around the village baring the 'road' that lead to the fence's only plain view 'gateway' into the village, an intended charge breaker an chokepoint respectively. I also had every hand available, namely those who were not participating in the fighting, sharpen stakes to be planted on the ground, particularly within the area of the natural gapes in the fence were the posts were unable to block at a head from thrusting in and snapping at the defenders. I even had a line of such stakes ringing along the back of the fences, particularly around the back of the village, just in case. Hell, I even had a set of small watch towers erected, two to the sides and one in the back, again just in case. I would've had pitfall traps too to help complement the defenses but unfortunately between everything from reinforcing the fences, creating spears and clubs from the left over lumber for the noncombatants, again just in case, and letting them rest lest they were utterly vulnerable from exhaustion there was only so much time in the remainder of the day with or without my help. I'll admit though, we made ourselves quite the fort here though despite my misgivings. These goblins certainly have a lot more vigor than most farming communities pulling together under similar circumstances. Then again the threat of oncoming doom had always been a twistedly great motivator for everyone and everything when such situations occurred.

Still though... they were a little late by my prediction but the dire wolves arrived nevertheless. They didn't even try to deviate from their large pack which in itself was curious now that I think about it; short of some sort of wizard or a druid, or even a demon sometimes, commanding them wolves usually gathered in as small as six or seven wolves per pack, or as many of twenty-to-thirty in particularly dangerous or bountiful environments from my observations. A hundred or so horde was nothing less than ludicrous in comparison though. Even if I discounted that or explained it away with something like 'different land, different species, different circumstances' or something along those lines another oddity that struck me was their approach: by their nature wolves were hunters and ambushers. They would forgo open ground if they could or at least try to look as inconspicuous as possible. But no... there they are in what could be best described as a natural road within the forest, out in the open, fully aware everyone was awake, or at least I think they are aware, and charging straight for the village/fort after what seemed like a brief moment of hesitation. It was if they were utterly confident they would break through or even the fence if need be! It was a bit insulting really. But putting their mindset aside however their numbers were indeed worrying. There was more than enough to slip by me if I become too conceited.

Time to thin their numbers and break the pack apart.

"Archers!"

From the towers and from tree branches too high for even an empowered wolf to leap to every goblin with a bow let loose their arrows. A few wolves fell in the initial and the ensuing barrages but not enough; with their frames larger than the average wolf they were able to shrug off an arrow or two in their sides or back if they were hit amidst their last minute dodging if they were not struck in the head by an arrow. Even with a few of their number dying however they didn't deter from their charge toward the only 'gate' we had that would allow them to slip through. As such any hope I had for them to simply learn their lesson and scamper off simply died as I rested Evos on my shoulder and raised by hand and gathered the air around me, compressing it into a ball...

When they were close enough I only waited for a moment longer to ensure at least as third of their force was across my imaginary line in the sand. It was then they were met with a baleful gale of my own making which knocked them off their paws and slam into their own kin, decimating the primary charge and forcing those on the sides to chance their luck with the fences. In their rush and in the darkness untouched by the moonlight they noticed the trenches much too late. Even then the few that hadn't stumbled in and were dazed from the impact of slamming into the ground, making them vulnerable to the archers from the tower while those in the forest were focused on the primary pack, they tried to smash through the fence with what great leaps they could afford after jumping past their fallen comrades in an effort to avoid the spikes. They were surprisingly successful in _that_ regard. Unfortunately for them though the fences were far more sturdier than they would've liked. Even so, jarred or not from the impact of the fence as they tried to worm their way through the fence after attempting to smash through it their heads which poked through the gaps were left at the mercy of the retinue guarding the fence line. They were far more triumphant in their own kills than the archers' initial attempts...

XVX

Goblins by far were the weakest of the races within the forest. Even with their huddling they were nothing less than cattle at best, existing simply to be preyed upon even if something showed them enough favor to evolve. Especially if that thing happened to be some mangled human with magic! A fence? HA! As if that had stopped them before! Archers in the trees? Let them have their pittance! Even dire wolves were not so cruel as to deny them the cold comfort of a kill before dying! Their benefactor? A human was a human no matter what tricks they knew or how strange they smelled! Since the Second Presence came to Jura everyone and everything was coming to Jura to stake their claim! This human was no different. Why else would he be with his goblin lackeys?

But now though the pack was losing its nerve now that they were losing brothers and sister, especially as they neared the human with the now undeniable unusual presence... So what though? How was this any different than when they were sacking human villages out by the woods and the grasslands? They knew the risks that _eventually_ they would've run into something powerful in this forest when the pack came to Jura thanks to their dampened senses to detect threats! They would crush it though! They would crush them as they would crush everything else to prove their right to lord over Jura!

"So what if they got a magic human with them? They're weaker than us! We'll show them why dire wolves are to be feared!"

The human snapped his head in the pack leader's direction who in turn snarled at him. A second later the human cocked it's head to the side as if confused before whipping to a nearby goblin in a bandana. "Is it me or did that wolf talk?"

The goblin, who like many of its kind was content to cower behind their human overlord looked up to the crippled caster with a confused look of his own. "He did Lord Jack—"

"Please, just Jack."

The goblin cringed a little before resuming. Though whether it was because of him being interrupted or from the fact that a packmate managed to get close enough to lung at the human who foolishly looked away... only for him to whack said packmate away with his staff with neither a glance spared for the wolf or even some token acknowledgement of the bones that clearly cracked underneath the frustratingly casual blow, it was a little hard to say. "Any creature with enough intelligence can make use of the ambient magicules in the air to make their intentions known, L—sir... Jack?"

XVX

... _sigh._

Alright. Fine. I can live with that much at least. No different from Castelyn or Grand Artificer. So long as they keep the worship to "hooray, we lived thanks to you!" then I'll he as happy an angel with issues can be under the circumstances. Seriously though, the damnable things others have done just to get a leg up over the demons over the centuries before the council cracked down on them...

Right, where was I—oh right. Magicules. "Magicules?"

The goblin who originally was sent out to find me nodded. "Yep!"

... "What are magicules?"

His face scrunched up in confusion. "Um... uh... Magicules are... magicules?"

... we're going to have to revisit this issue at another time. Then again I suppose it might be the local colloquial term for mana. If that was the case then that was truly extraordinary: animals using latent energies of their environment to communicate with others. Was it instinct? Was it learned? Or are they a case of an altered breed that subsequently gained more sentience than the average wolf, followed or perhaps following an increase of size, hardiness and so on that resulted in the anomalies I had personally witnessed?

"DON'T YOU DARE MOCK ME BY IGNORING ME, HUMAN!"

_**THWACK-CRUNCH!**_

If that were the case, had this subspecies been _intentionally_ made or was it the result of their environment? Then again that can go hand in hand. That's how some breeds of dogs came about in some of the kingdoms and territories of Sanctuary after all.

It took me a moment before I realized the battle had died down. The wolves were no longer trying to advance. In fact it looked like they were on the prey end of the predator-prey relationship where the prey seized up in an effort not to be noticed. The goblins had stopped firing as well now that I'm looking... hrm. They looked... befuddled. Frightened even. Why? I looked to the village behind me to see similar reactions behind me... hmm... One problem at a time however. As such I turn to the wolves after sparing a glance to what I can either assume to be their leader or at least their champion amongst their pack; with an indent like that to his skull I'd say I may have rendered him brain dead if he's even still alive. Still, without him the pack should be easier to drive off or manipulate. As such I raised Evos and pointed to the wolves as they and their stragglers began to huddle together for what good it would do them.

"You have but three choices: You can surrender and submit, you can flee, or you can die. Which will it be?"

Come on submission. Come on submission! Papa needs some personal sentries so he doesn't invest in another pipe network once he moves out of the forest! That and I won't feel halfway guilty or annoyed if you fleabags run for it only to turn around for round two.

Wait, now that I'm thinking about it, I hadn't even resolved the Veldora/me crisis yet. For all I know I might be here longer yet. Damn. Flee, flee! The less beings I'm responsible for the less stressed I'll be if it falls through for me!

"We surrender!"

DAMN IT!

_Bong!_

"... ow..."

I forgot how hard you are, Evos. How I have forgotten...

_Sigh_. Alright. I'm in it now. Can't back out without becoming a jackass about it. Now the other problem...

I turned to the goblins as they fidgeted in place. Some were looking to the depths of the forest unrelated to the battle they just had, others to me as if the world itself had been swept out from under them. I looked in the direction as the others are doing yet for the life of me I couldn't see what it was that held their interest. "Did something happen that I'm not aware of?"

The bandana wearing one... I really should learn his name at this point, outright whipped his head toward me with impeccably wide eyes. "Uh-ah-ugh... can you not feel it, Lord Jack?"

... for the sake of the situation at hand I'll bite my tongue on my fear of becoming a god mongering psychopath for the time being. "I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about I'm afraid."

The goblin gulped as he gawked at me. "Our Guardian God Veldora..."

"... he's gone."

... _fuck_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Yeah you all know the drill. I do not own Diablo (beyond the purchased game). I do not own That time I was reincarnated as a Slime (beyond the purchased manga). I do not need to be reminded that I do not own them and not rich because of it. Carry on! (... waits till you leave before breaking down and crying because of the lack of ownership.)**

Out of Place: Forced out the door

Chapter Three

Goblin Village, Great Forest of Jura

Back in the earlier days, or rather the days where I first joined the Eternal Conflict, _**unwillingly**_ I might add, I was practically the only one who ever celebrated any at all victories. That is not to say I wasn't entirely alone in this but at the most I was joined by one or two sets of cheers, the rest of the time though nearly everyone, _even the blanks_, looked to me as if I was nuts... it took me awhile to see why, as well as learn the hard way as to fully realize the sheer _magnitude_ that was the Eternal Conflict... There was always another battle ahead. There was almost always a demon lurking within the shadows waiting for the most opportune moment to either pick us off one by one or kill as many as he could get his grubby claws on in one go. There was _always_ something to worry about that would render that victory we had just carved for ourselves borderline meaningless...

Sometimes I wonder how the hell I survived as long as I did on a mental level. A perk of sorts of being an angel? Or perhaps I adapted without quite realizing it as I coped by indulging my ever growing designs to see the demons crushed beneath our war machine, literally and figuratively. Either way as I looked to the encampment I couldn't help but be reminded being in one of the camps in Pandemonium, awaiting the latest orders from our acting commander assuming the original one hadn't had his head removed... and once again that role was upon me by sheer default. With that in mind however I also had to remind myself a key difference between leading a unit of angels and a warband of mortals: mortals tire. Angels only 'tire' either through surviving a harrowing battle that would cripple a mortal for life, sustaining injuries much like myself and taking the time to forcibly regenerate from them or they had overworked themselves in the use of spellcraft. Mortals tire from intense activity, when they do not get sufficient sleep or food, or else from illness; they couldn't go from battle to battle like an angel for an untold length of time and effort. As such all I could do was wait for the sun to rise up once more and await for them to partake with their breakfast before giving them their tasks to predominantly rebuild the village proper, hunt and form a party to guide to me Veldora to investigate his apparent disappearance...

Still can't help but wonder how it is they can sense both him and myself whereas I'm virtually blind though. Perhaps it's a unique type of a sensory ability to instinctively warn them of potential danger? Possibly. Though 'unique' would be stretching it a fair deal considering these dire wolves that now inhabited the camp seemingly shared this ability given their sudden fear and subservience toward me... _ugh_. Still, that crosses out a species specific trait... what am I missing though? Angels and demons can sense each other though there's usually some sort of factor involved: for example some demons experiencing a (more so than usual) heightened aggression to the point of palpable bloodlust that they unconsciously emit a signal of sorts. Intense concentrations of energy were self explanatory as to how the users were found out. Theurigically neutral fields made hiding was flat out impossible—

Static.

High Heavens, Burning Hells, even Sanctuary, the use of magic be it conscious or not created a sense of static, fog, a blinding field, that made sensing things difficult on most days without some sort of aid _if you weren't looking for __**something specific/vague-enough**__ to begin with_... provided of course they haven't taken any measures to hide themselves of course beyond inadvertently hiding in the static. I was ultimately looking for demons, the most common enemy of the High Heavens whose modus operandi for angels and anything else was to maim, torture, torment and kill, not necessarily in that or any order... After so many millennia of warfare I was accustomed and almost solely challenged by a specific kind of enemy that I had essentially had no reason to even consider anything else as a threat to keep an eye out for beyond some easily thwarted bandit duped into believing I was a traveling monk or uppity wizard with something to prove who found me out, very few of whom worth the effort to remember for one reason or another... These goblins and dire wolves though? They had every reason to be on the lookout for something undoubtedly stronger than them. Not fun. Headache inducing too; I hadn't been on such a broad search since before the Worldstone was stolen... I certainly do not miss the Fields by any stretch. Especially those damnable worms.

Setting all that aside however... where's my memoirs—oh wait they're back at the cabin...

I may as well bring the table with me.

XVX

Now let's see...

_There are those that say that only when the High Heavens are in a state of calm new angels are born from the heart of the Crystal Arch. This is both true and false. Or more accurately false if you are more of a stickler for the details. Angels come forth from the Arch even during times of strife and conflict, true, but only in times of peace and serenity by angel standards do __groups__ of angels arrive from the Arch. In other words if the Heavens are currently besieged then the birth rate as it were is, at best, one angel a week. If the battles are far afield that the High Heavens is at a state of peace then groups of eight-to-twenty march forth to carry on the war in place of their fallen kin every few days. Or avenge themselves in more rare cases when an angel perfectly reincarnates themselves, but we'll cross that bridge for later. Suffice it to say that these angels are usually of strong will/power or at least have a strong sense of self to not come out as a blank... again, for a later time, me/trespasser._

_I'll admit to this day I cannot help but regret it when I finally stepped out of the Crystal Arch alongside the group I was 'born' with. As traumatic as the experience was... while I do not truly know what it was, it was as if divinity incarnate was caressing my very being right down to the core with a song that even Auriel's choir could never hope to replicate should they hear of it. Even so that was just __**part**__ of my regret..._

_Suffice it to say that new born angels, blanks as I tend to call them... lack anything of a personality. Until they have lived a fair amount of time and are sculpted by the experiences beget from such a time they are more akin to machines, almost akin to my cherubs even. Sure they know what to do, where to go and such, but overall they need a measure of supervision lest they either fail to assemble in a training hall for their own benefit by wandering around without a goal of sorts in mind, a quiet irk of sorts to the Council as a whole, or worse immediately go to the front line and get butchered on the spot from a lack of training and experience on their part. It was because of this particular need that my particular brand of woe had begun: I wondered where I was. I asked questions. I panicked. I outed myself right out of the gate._

_After the inevitable scuffle of such a situation I was dragged before the Angiris Council where my so called "aberrancy" (Fuck You Imperius. Fuck. You.) was essentially put on trial, a first for them. In the end it came down to a vote, much like what they had and will have done for Sanctuary at a later point of time. Interestingly enough it went identically to Sanctuary's own case: Imperius wanted my death (because of course. How the hell I somehow learned to tolerate you beyond a mutual hatred for demons is beyond me.)—_

That goes double for your fucking bean bag chairs too you bastard. I threw that in as a joke for all that is holy and unholy combined!

—_for I was unnatural by their standards, a potential cause of trouble at best. Maltheal had abstained for good or ill. I was new to him, something outside his or any other angel's experience. To a degree he at least heeded Imperius' 'concern' for the security of the High Heavens, yet at the same time what would happen if I was slain by their hand? What if others like me came through the Arch (they hadn't, at least to my knowledge.)? It would set a bad precedent at least if it were some sort of divine will made manifest; damn if you do, damned if you don't I suppose. Auriel, ever kind and good hearted, chose for me to live. What if others like me did indeed come through (again to my knowledge there hadn't.) at a later time? Besides, if I came through the Arch then I must be a brother in arms (against my will mind you.). Tyrael was by far the most neutral despite his vote in my favor, surprisingly enough. After all I had not done any wrong per se beyond struggling and railing against my situation. I certainly didn't choose my current predicament at least._

_Ithereal's reasoning caught me by surprise however._

_At the time Ithereal never once left anything in way of a confirmation or a hint as to what the Archangel of Fate was thinking. It basically amounted to "he lives." No one questioned Ithereal—_

... this might get annoying. For all intents and purposes Ithereal was gender neutral. On most centuries however he often spoke with a man's voice. On occasion she did catch me off guard by switching over to a woman's voice when she was feeling capricious. And it's a little hard to tell underneath those robes he/she wears but I could almost swear he/she... shlee? Shleer? Bah. Like _their_ voice, changes _their_ body shape to either a man or a woman by angel standards...

... you're out there somewhere laughing at my predicament towards you, aren't you Ithereal? Bah...

—_then and there nor afterwards as far as I know. As for me, it quietly nibbled on my mind for the centuries to come whenever there was a quiet moment to be had on the Fields of Pandemonium. I considered asking Ithereal during the exceptionally few times when the archangel took to the field.. at the time though there wasn't time; there were demons to fight and kill, hills to reclaim, bunkers being built under the duress of a makeshift siege. It wasn't until my reputation as The Tinker for my weapons, my machines and my trap infested bunkers grew to such renown that the Council deemed my expertise was needed to lay the foundations of a defensive network within the Silver City and later the Silver Spire that I earned enough of a reprieve to seek out the Archangel of Fate and ask "why?"._

_Being the most resonant with the concept of fate Ithereal was privy to at least a grand number of "what if"s and "what might happen"s, and it is said archangel's job to discern which of these visions as "what __**will**__ happen" and inscribe them unto the Scroll of Fate. As for me, I was a "what if" __**at best**__. An errant thought and concept if nothing else that could have been fulfilled by any number of people or beings to validate its existence. As such I was not to be a "what __**will**__ happen". My existence alone intrigued the archangel and frightened the angel at the same time. It also proved that fate could be meddled with, at least by outside forces, and from there event could be changed given that I was "unwritten" much like the Nephalem. For all intents and purposes I was the closest thing Ithereal had to a confidant for an outside context situation. And though it may be a bit conceited of me in an extreme sort of way, I was probably the closest thing Ithereal had to a friend..._

_Again that may just me being conceited. For all I knew he at least spoke with the other members of the Council on a regular basis on subjects not pertaining to work whenever I wasn't around before, during and after Inarius stabbed me through the back to get the Worldstone... the fucker._

On some days I still feel that blade piercing me through my back despite the wound having long since healed... it certainly didn't help that I had a good view of that damn sword _sticking out of my chest_ when it happened. Still...

_That aside however there was thankfully only one incident which required my experience from before my encounter with the Prince of Madness... my only regret is that it didn't last longer. Even so I continue to savor how much it stung Imperius' pride to see __**one**_**human**_ outright rip and tear through the uncountable hordes of the Burning Hells in strides that had consumed whole legions worth of angels in similar assaults. Sadly all good things come to an end eventually. I'm not sure how but from what is understood the remaining Evils at the time (Baal and Mephisto had the 'misfortune' of attract the interest of the Slayer. We're not sure if Belial was slain during that time—_

Damn it I could've asked Ithereal if he was killed!

... then again considering schlee... yeah I'll go with it after all... actually freaked out to the point schlee had me practically yanked out of the Pandemonium Fortress on short notice and had me try to identify the Doom Slayer of all people while reading and rereading schleer scroll its entirely possible that Ithereal doesn't have a clue either...

... bah!

—_and was the quickest to recover or had managed to successfully hide himself from the Slayer given how seldom he was seen to begin with) succeeded in banishing him to some other realm/universe beyond the culminated knowledge of the High Heavens, including my own. Otherwise they would've made up and fully participated in their very first holiday season with the presumed death of the Slayer and made sure to rub it in our faces at every chance they could get._

The pen hesitated as I contemplated on whether to add it or not... I can never really enjoy that little rampage without remembering Hell's Aegis...

_In the end though it did cost us more than what we would've liked. And while Imperius has the luxury of ignoring that particular sting, my own barb is far less merciful by virtue of quiet self rebukes and, worse yet, Azmodan's interest if that stalker's wretched minions' comments over the years are anything to go by. On a worse day however, when we __**are**__ in a position to mount an invasion of hell, I'm always the one they bring in in hopes I would somehow conceive a means to destroy that grotesque and warped monstrosity that was suppose to serve as The Host's permanent foothold in the Burning Hells: Hell's Aegis. Or as __**they**__, as in __**every fucking demon**__,__like to call it just to rub salt on that festering wound, __**Jack's Gift**__._

... for a brief moment I set the pen down and rub my head.

_If you had ever visited the Netherworld at any if its levels you would notice a distinct lack of any sense of structure throughout the entirety of its ever shifting existence outside of the personal lairs of the evils and even some mallet lords. True there are the armories, the Hellforge, the Pits of Agony and other such areas, and as I understand it a desiccated city of some sort within its depths... but until we began the creation of Hell's Aegis, what was supposed to be the High Heaven's bastion within the outer plains of Hell there was nothing in the way of defenses beyond the raw might of the demons and the cunning of their masters. As such at any given moment the entirety of this reach realm was susceptible to an uninhibited invasion from the High Heavens whenever the Burning Hells was sufficiently beaten back. It didn't mean we as a whole got very far however before they threw everything they had at The Host to stall it long enough for their replenished numbers eventually overwhelmed our forces. Especially when the closest rally point we had was a often ramshackle fortress far behind the lines that we could not quite rebuild thanks to the near unrelenting assaults it suffered, especially whenever the demons took out their frustrations on it after ejecting us out of Hell. Ironically we outright abandoned it in favor of the Aegis' construction—the irony of course being that now __**we're**__ the ones who beat on its walls when the demons at large finally got it into their heads that fortresses weren't simply something to bash their heads against to get to us; as much as I hate it it did serve as something of a testing ground of sorts in our unfortunately doomed endeavors to destroy the Aegis._

_When the Slayer came and rampaged throughout the varying levels of the Burning Hells with no signs of an end in sight it was a golden opportunity to invade. And given how _**busy**_ the hordes were in outright trying to survive him we saw something else that every angel quietly hoped for: an end to the war. While in hindsight it was presumptuous of us to even consider succeeding in this endeavor, if the Aegis had been completed as intended angel forces could finally assail the fiery realm unimpeded as the forces of Hell broke itself on its walls to no avail much like they often did with the Pandemonium Fortress under my stewardship. The Forge would be in perpetual striking range from the dirigibles loaded with symphony bombs to wash it away. The Pits would've been forcibly filled to the brim with its defenders as we run raid after raid to free our imprisoned brothers and sisters in arms. And the Spires of Suffering (yes, yes, inventive name. I don't live there so let them have it), we could've built roosts there just to piss them off (or rather I would just to piss them off. I imagined that argument many a time and most of them ended with convincing them it would have demons trying to claw their way up there enough to warrant its defense as the demon's pride induced baited deathtrap)! And their Spawning Pits? That goes without saying that we would at least be in a position to mobilize kill teams if not set up outposts to stem their forces even further._

_We only had the rudimentary defenses of the fortress installed by the time the assault came; spiked traps, pits that dumped its victims out at the base of the fortress, so on and so forth. We tried. We honestly tried but we lost more defending that half formed citadel than we had in most other engagements barring either of the Pandemonium Fortress' siege (in which we were reclaiming it (before my stewardship) and the defense of the Diamond Gates when it seemed like the end was nigh despite my knowledge of what was to come long afterwards. In fact I would say our losses were than either those instances combined, yet worse in terms of lasting consequences. For the longest time the demons seldom made use of any fort or bunker they captured and even then they saw no need in repairing the very damage they inflected upon it save for the Pandemonium Fortress itself in an effort to keep us out. As such we were fairly confident they would follow this trend still, or given that it was upon the boundary of their territories they would make an extra effort of sorts to destroy it as a message of sorts that we would never have any sort of dominance over them... instead of destroying it as we had thought after they finally ejected us from the depths of hell the Evils found more use in a twisted form revenge by making use of my fortress much to our horror when the Host marched upon the Netherworld realm once again..._

_What were once brilliant white walls that gleamed in defiance of the hateful air of the burning realm had been corrupted by Hell's rough hewn stones and ever the bleeding mortar of crushed creatures found wanting by the demons who laid the stonework in place. The unfinished towers had been replaced by dark spires filled aviaries hosting their more bestial kin (in mindset, not that there's much of a difference amongst the rank and file.), ever ready to take flight to make sure we never have a proper use of our aerial superiority. The gnarled battlements now teem with as many ad hoc siege weapons as well as clear attempts to recreate my own weaponry as made evident to their definition of the word "canon" (read specially grown and tortured... __**things**__ which I can only describe as canon-like in appearance, each one the size of either one of my concert canons as their smallest or as large as the heads of titan class demons (aka the ones as big as mountains) which they have to actively torture to the point they literally vomit in pain, hurtling great projectiles of acid across great distances and destroying anything that wasn't specially armored to counter this; sometimes if we were lucky they would get over eager in their mutilation of these... beasts that they would collapse under the duress and ended up vomiting upon their own defenses. Then there were the spikes... for better or worse the garrison of the twisted fortress found little time and even less reason to bother trying to capture angels to coerce them in Hell's thralls when compared to the other legions belonging to the Evils. That said (or rather written as it were) many of the demons were quite happy with prolonging their suffering as long as possible by impaling any unfortunate soul cut off from the main force upon. From there these tortured captives' only hope was a mercy kill from either our side when we had the chance and will for it, or the demons who grew bored with this perverse form of entertainment..._

_While it remains true that anyone can enter hell, especially through portals and the like, to move an entire army into it however one had to enter through the entrances made by the forces of Hell itself within the Fields of {Pandemonium (and later Sanctuary, though the accord struck by both Heaven and Hell after the Sin War barred the High Heavens from making use Sanctuary in this manner). Given how belligerent they are and how eager they were to repay our own slights against them it took us a long time to realize they were forcibly closing these entrances till only one remained... since then the Aegis' walls and the inevitable reinforcements funneling through this tunnel of an entryway into hell had always repelled the High Heaven's assaults without fail._

_If only they were content with that..._

_Given that it was the both decision of the council and an unexpected result after our forced retreat from Hell I was not to blame as far as the High Heavens were concerned. The Evils or at least Gor'Krak, the mallet lord which rules over Hell's Aegis— a rare display of compromise all around to keep control over the fortress as neutral as possible to stave off infighting overs its control, saw fit to remind both me and the entirety of Heaven who built the Aegis in the first place. No matter how often I had at least one canon trained on them there is an accursed set of statues of me kneeling before the Evils (and that fucker Gor'Krak) and offering them the foundation of the very fortress it looms over to this very day. For an extra kick in the teeth they went the extra mile to make it as clean and a graceful as possible that anyone outside of the know would think that the angels themselves made these statues in the first place (save for Gor'Krak's whom I suspect added his own statue to the mix without their consent given how obviously obtuse the work is in comparison to the others. He's still an asshole though at any rate)._

I considered whether or not I was satisfied with that as I tapped my pen at the side, on the table. In essence I wasn't. Namely because I _still_ loathe that event... but, on a more relevant matter as far as inscribing my journal here I had basically jumped forward in the order of events I wanted to document for my own sake...

Meh. I'll edit it later. In the meantime however...

I look up to the night sky and found it wanting. Dawn couldn't come soon enough for me. I suppose I could get a head start on building up the village's defenses. Going to be a pain in the ass with one arm though considering I need all the energy I can gather for my regeneration; I screwed around enough as it was with that cabin and defense network...

... on the other hand I don't really have anything better to do though aside from brood. As such with a sigh I get up and pick up Evos. Not even a second later an axe blade sprouted from the top of its default staff form.

XVX

Great Forest of Jura, daybreak

Having to do my work a fair distance away so as to disturb the village from its much needed rest was probably the most interesting subject worth noting about the entire endeavor. I tried to think of it all as something liken to one of my projects where I had to monitor each of the hammer to fashion a new dirigible so it would not be shot down by simple balefire or a strike of a claw, every fraction of an inch of an inscription as I granted boons upon weapons and armor for whomever wielded them, every meticulous curve to enable my cherubs the greatest amount of mobility and power... but it was simply me hacking trees down and carving them up into over glorified wood blocks. There was hardly an art to it nor a need for being particularly attentive beyond the necessity as I would normally associate with my projects. The same applied with turning the logs into lumber. Making a cart for said lumber however was a fair distraction though, all things considered.

... having to haul said lumber back was a pain however despite my strength, especially with that deceptive grade the cart and I was on. Would've been easier and faster if I could fly but then I would've had to carry less wood than I knew I could bring on the wagon, not to mention a colossal pain with only one arm at my disposal. In the end though the true objective was served when it was all said in done—the sun had risen, the village was awake and were building themselves a proper town and fort according to my instructions as soon as they ate breakfast... presumably at least. They certainly got started at least when our particular entourage left as soon as they too had the most important (and personally missed) meal of the day. Hopefully they, the goblins and dire wolves, don't tear into each other while I'm gone...

Regardless of that however I still had a job to do.

With goblins to act as my guides and dire wolves to act as my scouts for matters I can neither sense nor properly spy upon, we set out for Veldora's lair... now that I think about it, when was the last time I saw a dragon in Sanctuary? Was it before or after... before. It was definitely before the formation of the Horadrim. I was under the impression they went extinct. Then again considering most of them can fly it's entirely possible they simply flew to more remote and thus less antagonistic pastures that suited them, and since my business in Sanctuary typically involved humans I would thus not have reason to note their presence. Even so, how many had just intelligence capable enough to necessitate worship over it? None that I can think of at least. Then again weren't there a few religions in Sanctuary that worshiped a volcano or something similar simply because it was either terrifying to them or a symbol of power?

Now that I think about it wasn't there an empire that worshiped dragons and practiced blood magic? Yeeee_eees?_ Maybe? No, wait, there wasn't such an empire in Sanctuary. What am I thinking of then? Or maybe I'm just confused again and there is/was one and I'm thinking of something else... bah. Over three thousand years of Sanctuary and the memories bleed together eventually. No angel is immune to it.

... or is it just I who has problems with his memory in the end?

"We're here Great Jack!"

It took everything within my power not to 'sigh' as I stared at... whatshisname in lieu of venting. After a moment's worth of squirming I finally diverted my attention toward the side of the mountain we were threatening to ascend. In my musings I apparently failed to notice the great iron door built into its side. As imposing as it was to some unwanted guest, and most likely having repelled many such 'guests', the signs of age and rust was readily apparent to the naked eye. For what it's worth I wouldn't doubt it would last at least one or two more centuries at the most before a particularly strong gust gets the better of it in the end. I then turn back to the same goblin I was just staring at.

"Thank you. I'll take it from here."

I barely made it more than two steps when he hesitantly called out to me. "I-uh-ah... do you want us to... _do_ anything while we wait for you?"

_Ugh..._

"No," I say as I looked over to them. "You're more than welcome to head back to the village and do whatever it is you think is best. Otherwise you all will most likely be waiting here for the better part of the day at best. Maybe even onto the night. Until then I will see you later..." ... may as well get this over with. "What was your name again?"

The goblin stiffened, though not in fright or emb... never mind. He was embarrassed. "I, uh, don't have a name Great Jack."

"... why?"

He scratched his cheek. "Only maijin more powerful than the monster being named can name them."

... I'll chalk that up as a tradition around here until further investigation.

"Very well then. I'll see you later Charles."

XVX

As the angel walked away he took no notice of the dumb founded look on the group's faces, nor of the glow now engulfing the goblin the angel was talking to. Instead he busied himself with a flap of his wings to bring him to the door with minimum effort. A moment later he leaned his staff against him in a brief search for either a missed handhold to pull the door open or a slot for a key. Both were found after some of the rust had been knocked off a certain section of the edifice. After an experimental tug ensured it was indeed locked the staff was brought to bear against the keyhole where the end would carefully seep into the cavity and assume the shape of the gate's key. Once the 'key' was properly formed it unlocked the door with a twist of the staff before the extension returned to the staff proper.

Rusted hinges squealed in protest upon being opened from untold decades of disuse only to be utterly ignored by the angel after the initial note rang out. As soon as it opened the angel slipped inside once the gap was large enough for his form, and subsequently closed the door behind him more out of habit than any sense of tactic or a plan. Even so the angel simply glanced about the cave as if expecting to find something before his wings once again emerged from their hiding place underneath his robe and launched him into the cavern's depths.

As this was happening the angels presence drove the cave's primal inhabitants into hiding out of instinct: having long since adapted to the presence of a 'god', it was an immobile 'god' and as powerful as they are to the comparatively normal denizens of the forest at large be they local or recent intruder, it was an immobile and trapped 'god' whose presence they were comfortable with. Thus few ever dared to move about in the open where the angel's presence was undeniable. What few did and had lashed out out of desperation met swift ends. Throughout it all however as the angel explored the cave they left a slime to its own machinations as it explored this world of stone.

With one being largely ignorant of the finer points of the world he traveled in and the other cautious by virtue of a guide only it could hear neither would encounter each other within the days that would come to pass as the angel searched each and every crevice for the 'god' of Jura. Nor would they meet in the near future as the slime found the only doorway into the cavern and promptly discover it unlocked.

**A/N: And thus Rigur (the second) has been wiped from existence... so to speak. :P**

**Monkeybandit2, making off with your attention. No refunds.**


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